


5 Years Before Case One

by AnExhaustedArmadillo



Series: Case One [7]
Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Corporate, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Military
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 02:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20332570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnExhaustedArmadillo/pseuds/AnExhaustedArmadillo
Summary: Winters is a Major in the Army. Nixon works at the company that sells them chemical weapons.





	5 Years Before Case One

**Author's Note:**

> So, I just want to clarify, this is in no way based off of real people!! I use real Nixon's real father's name because I knew what it was, but this in no way reflects him as a person, whatsoever. None of my BoB works do. In fact, oftentimes fanfics aren't even based off of show interpretations, but of fandom interpretations of the characters, very different than the real people. No disrespect intended!

“Major Winters.”

“General Machen,” Winters said, greeting his superior with a salute, which was politely returned.

“Are you prepared for this meeting?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be, sir,” Winters said, and the general began to walk, silently suggesting that Winters should join him. They were in the parking lot of Nixon Chemicals, on their way to a meeting with the company’s executive officers.

“I don’t need to restate the importance of this meeting, I’m sure,” General Machen said. Nixon Chemicals was the leading chemical producer in the nation. They were also the forerunners in chemical weaponry. Apparently, Nixon Chem had some new, expensive weapon that was about to be on the market. The Army wanted to buy it, and, though Winters wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he’d been asked to sit in on the negotiations anyway.

“Of course not, sir,” Winters said simply, and they walked into the building in silence.

The meeting room was at the top of the top of the corporate office, in a room with many large windows and one long table. The executive officers were already waiting, which Winters was not surprised by.

“Greetings, General Machen,” One of the executives said, then turned to Winters. “And…”

“This is Major Winters,” Machen supplied, and Winters moved to shake the executive’s hand. “Winters, this is Mr. Stanhope Nixon, CEO.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Mr. Nixon said, then gestured to the two other men in the room. “This is our CTO, Edison Becker, and COO, my son, Lewis Nixon.” Edison Becker was a slight, wiry man with thinning hair and a smile like that resembled the grinch. Lewis Nixon was much, much younger, with dark hair and a smile that was mischievous yet surprisingly warm. After they were all done shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries, the five of them sat down in swiveling office chairs around the table.

“So,” Machen began. “Let’s get down to business, shall we? I know it’s not official yet, but anyone who’s anyone knows you’ve been developing a new weapon.”

“And you’d like to know what it is,” Mr. Nixon said, smiling. Machen nodded.

“We might like to buy it,” He said, which seemed to please Mr. Nixon.

“The weapon is in its early stages of development, of course, and it probably won’t be ready to sell for a while, but development _is_ on track. It’s a blinding agent, the first of its kind. It’s designed to incapacitate an attacker for two to three hours, depending on the subject’s constitution. No adverse effects afterwards, though it is incredibly potent.”

“Sounds useful,” Machen said, nodding along to what Mr. Nixon was saying. Winters was less sure, however.

“Would it have to come into contact with their eyes?” Winters asked, which was evidently the wrong move, as everyone around the table stared at him, General Machen particularly unhappily. He tried to backtrack. “I only meant, if people can protect themselves by just covering their eyes, then…” He trailed off, realizing he was making the situation worse. Lewis Nixon seemed to enjoy his discomfort, if his wry smile was anything to go by.

“Well, Major,” Lewis Nixon said. “That’s the best part. It doesn’t actually have to come into contact with the victim’s eyes in order to work. Any exposure with the agent will result in immediate blindness.”

“Would our own soldiers be able to protect themselves from the agent?” Machen asked, suddenly more suspicious about the weapon. The elder Nixon grinned coldly.

“We’re currently working on a suit that handlers of the toxin could wear to protect themselves completely. Other soldiers could cover all of their skin to avoid coming into contact with the agent.”

“That sounds expensive,” Machen reasoned, and Winters silently agreed.

“We’re not advocating the agent be used in every situation, obviously,” Edison Becker spoke for the first time. “But it could be used in riot situations or to incapacitate large groups of terrorists. Things like that.”

“It is very applicable,” Mr. Nixon agreed. “Especially in any close quarters conflicts. It will be a very useful weapon.”

“I have no doubt about that,” Machen said, effectively won back over. “Well, I’m sure any implementation errors you have will be worked out. Regardless, we’d love to work with any prototype you may have. Major Winters is in charge of the battalion that would experiment with such weaponry. When the weapon is ready, we’d like to test it out.”

“Mm,” Mr. Nixon said. “I’m sure you would. It’s just-”

“It’s just that a free trial run isn’t the most economically intelligent choice,” Edison Becker said helpfully.“The samples we have now cost millions to produce. We can’t just let you test it and then decide whether or not you want to buy it. We need a, uh, _guarantee_ of sorts.” Machen wasn’t smiling anymore.

“You mean, you want the United States Army to commit to buying a weapon that we have not seen work and that we have had no part in engineering? You can’t even ensure safe use of the weapon, but you want the military to pay you? You want us to purchase a weapon that we have literally no reason to purchase?”

“We want you to make our time and resources invested in manufacturing this weapon _worth it_,” Mr. Nixon specified. “Nixon Chemicals is responsible for the production of several weapons the military already uses. Surely that is a quality guarantee in and of itself.” Winters wasn’t sure what Nixon meant by that. He wasn’t threatening to stop the production of weapons if Machen didn’t buy, was he? Winters furrowed his brow.

“Now, we are willing to lower the price, at least initially, until you feel satisfied with the weapon,” Lewis Nixon tried to mediate.

“How much lower?” Machen asked. Lewis Nixon opened his mouth to respond, but his father cut him off.

“Ten percent lower.”

“Thirty,” Machen countered.

“Twelve,” Mr. Nixon continued, and Winters couldn’t help the feeling that he was watching ping pong.

“Thirty.”

“Fifteen.”

_“Thirty.”_

“Twelve, then,” Mr. Nixon countered, narrowing his eyebrows. “Don’t forget that we have other weapons to manufacture. Expensive weapons. We can’t go off giving major discounts to people.” Winters didn’t like the sound of that. Nixon tried again. “Fifteen.”

“Twenty.”

“Eighteen,” Nixon said. “That’s as high as we can go.” Machen sighed, then nodded.

“It’s a deal,” Mr. Nixon said, then swiveled in his chair so he was facing the room more directly. “General, I think that you and I can work out the logistics ourselves, if everyone else wanted to step outside.” Edison Becker strode out of the room immediately, skeleton like legs carrying him in an inhuman fashion. Winters managed to catch the glare Lewis Nixon shot his father, before watching him get up and leave as well.

“Winters, you can leave, too,” Machen told him.

“Sir,” Winters said, inclining his head respectfully before turning to head out. Lewis Nixon held the elevator door for him and soon it was just them two.

“Well, Major, looks like we’re at the kids table,” Nixon said, and Winters smiled at that.

“Honestly, I was surprised Machen wanted me to come at all. I know my battalion is the guinea pig, but my presence today wasn’t necessary,” Nixon chuckled at that and Winters felt an odd burst of pride flow through him. They stood in the elevator for a moment of silence, and Winters was painfully aware of just how tall the building was.

“So,” Nixon began. “Major’s not your first name, is it?”

“No,” Winters chuckled politely. “Richard Winters. But, uh, most people call me Dick.”

“Oh, do they?” Nixon asked and Winters felt himself blushing, though he wasn’t entirely sure that was Nixon’s intent. A quick glance at the sly grin on his face confirmed that it was. There was another brief pause before Nixon continued.

“Are you excited at all? About trying out the weapon?”

“Oh, yeah,” Winters said, though he hardly meant it. Nixon could apparently tell, because he stared at him with a disbelieving look on his face. Winters felt obligated to defend his lack of enthusiasm. “It feels kind of like cheating. Fighting an enemy that’s blind? There’s no honor in that.”

“Welcome to modern warfare,” Nixon said glibly. Winters was taken aback by that and Nixon continued, trying to justify his thinking. “I just mean that things aren’t exactly a level playing field, ever. Our guns are more powerful, our soldiers are better trained and more equipped, our military is just stronger. The point of war isn’t to be fair.”

“I suppose,” Winters began slowly. “But at a certain point, when someone can’t fight back, it’s not war, it’s murder.”

“Hey, as long as it’s not our troops getting murdered,” Nixon said, in that same nonchalant tone. Winters rolled his eyes, silent for a second, before he thought of something.

“It feels like war has been pretty fair recently, all things considered,” He said.

“How so?” Nixon asked, taking the bait with a smile.

“Well, a lot of our enemies somehow have access to U.S. weapons. It’s almost like certain companies are selling to them or something like that,” Winters said, tone completely innocent. Nixon seemed genuinely shocked, before he burst out laughing.

“Touche,” He said. “What can I say? Nixon Chemicals believes in an equal playing field.” It was then that the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, the two of them stepping out in unison.

“Well, look,” Nixon said as they stood in the lobby, and Winters turned to look at him directly. “I hope I’m not overstepping, but I’d love to continue this debate with you sometime. Perhaps, over dinner?” Winters couldn’t do much to fight the smile creeping up on his face.

“I’d like that,” He said, and Nixon reflected his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, I was not sure about that. I'm glad I could start the Winnix arc of this, but I feel way less comfortable writing them than I do some of the other ships. But, I posted! (Also, don't worry, :) they do have a role in the apocalypse, this is just backstory. )  
I hope you guys like it! Let me know what you thought in the comments and let me know what you'd like to see!!  
Thank you for reading!


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